


Man's World

by Russell_Craig



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-13
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-07-11 21:50:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15981221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Russell_Craig/pseuds/Russell_Craig
Summary: Unwilling to marry a stranger just to satisfy her brother, Daenerys flees Pentos in secret.  Months of planning don’t amount to much however and she struggles to escape before she can be discovered.  On the dock she meets a mysterious woman who commands the respect of men in a way Daenerys can only dream of.





	Man's World

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note: This story is the product of sleep deprivation and writer’s block. I was intrigued by the idea of Arya and Daenerys at a time when there weren’t the burdens of leadership or governing placed on either of them. I had to play around with the time line to make it work, but for the sake of argument just assume Viserys didn’t promise Daenerys to Drogo for a few more years. 
> 
> Not sure if this will be a weird little one-shot or something more. I guess we’ll have to see what people think. 
> 
> RC

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Missandei asked gently. 

“I’m sure,” she said, trying to sound more confident in her course than she was feeling. Daenerys appreciated the concern as well as the lack of judgement from her friend and handmaiden. In truth she wasn’t sure if this what she wanted exactly, but it was necessary. If she remained in Pentos, her brother would marry her off to that Dothraki Horselord in exchange for an army. She’d become his wife or his property or some combination of the two. She’d yet to find her place in the world but Daenerys was certain it wasn’t being a political tool in her brother’s game nor a prized white wife for a Dothraki warrior.

Her whole life had been decided by others. As far back as she could remember she was forced to go along with Viserys’s various whims. It was he who decided where they’d move and when they’d go. She was never consulted. It hadn’t been an easy life. Many times, they were only days or hours ahead of those who meant them harm, whether it be King Robert’s assassins looking to end the last of the Targaryens or fortune hunters attempting to secure a hostage from their famous bloodline. She was confident they would have starved long ago if not for the generosity of others and even that came with strings attached. 

No matter where they went, people would always learn who they were, be it through informers, intellect or Viserys’s bragging. When that happened, they’d be moved to a bigger, cleaner home, given more expensive clothes and showered with gifts of all shapes and sizes. It wasn’t kindness that motivated this but greed. Each and every one of these people paid the expense and took the risk because they believed gold would befall them once Viserys returned to Westeros and reclaimed their father’s throne. For his part her brother didn’t correct the assumption, he encouraged it. Too many times to count she heard him loudly declaring that any loyalist who helped him cross the sea and take what he was owed would be richly rewarded. Magister Illyrio wasn’t the first, or even the nicest of the bunch he was just the most recent. 

Tonight, was her night. Her brother was at one of his secret meetings, the kind she was never invited to attend. She’d overheard enough of them over the years to know what was discussed. In a room no larger than her bed chambers Viserys would hold his version of court, and the men who’d staked their coin and reputations on restoring him to power would compliment him, encourage him and indulge him, all in an effort to keep their future king happy. Her brother would bask in the attention and it guaranteed Daenerys a few hours of peace and quiet. 

For once Daenerys was glad she wasn’t included in these ‘strategy sessions’ as Viserys called them. She may be his sister, and a Targaryen just like him but to Viserys and those who followed him she was little more than a prop. She was placed out of sight when not needed, taken out and shined up when appropriate and shown off when it provided the most value. She was a thing to be seen not heard. They didn’t view her as a person but a bargaining chip. It’s why Viserys, the only constant thing in her life was willing to sell her to a man she’s never met for his own selfish gains. Well, she wouldn’t make it easy on him and she wouldn’t go quietly. 

Missandei had been a blessing. Daenerys doubted she’d have been brave enough to do this without the support of her first real friend. It had been years since Viserys went on a trip to Meereen and returned with a dozen Unsullied soldiers to act as his personal guard. He thought they made him appear both wealthy and powerful. The Unsullied were known across Essos for their skill and devotion. Along with them came Missandei. He presented her to Daenerys as a handmaiden, a thoughtful gift from a loving brother. It wasn’t until later that Daenerys learned the truth. She was a slave, thrown in by her Master to increase the price paid for the fighters. The younger Targaryen was horrified. She found in Missandei a kindred spirit, another woman at the mercy of the men in her life. Despite how she’d come to be there, Daenerys was glad she was. “You could come with me,” she offered as she began changing her clothes. 

This was a conversation they’d had many times over the past few weeks. She didn’t like the idea of leaving her behind, but Missandei resisted every time Daenerys suggested they flee together. “If we both go it’ll be suspicious. I am just a slave, why would they take me?” 

She stopped what she was doing and turned to face her. Firm hands gripped her shoulders and she looked the taller woman in the eye. “You were never just a slave Missandei,” she corrected. “As soon as I’m safe, I’ll send for you, I promise.” 

Daenerys got back to work, changing out of the silk dress that Viserys preferred for something more suitable for a traveller. She chose leather pants, and a tunic, along with a thick cloak that would hopefully protect her from the weather. Not knowing where she was going made it hard to dress appropriately. With luck, the hood would shield her identity from others until she was far enough away to blend in among the crowds. 

Behind an elaborate painting on the wall, was a small hole Missandei created to hide their most precious belongings. Inside was a bag of coins, the culmination of months of scrounging and saving. Each time she went shopping Viserys would give her two or three coins of random value, telling her to purchase something nice for herself. Again, it wasn’t kindness that caused this, he merely wanted her to look the part to increase his own standing. He was constantly nagging her about what she wore, how she styled her hair and other trivial things. He felt she didn’t look like the princess she was and that reflected poorly on him. Daenerys took it as a compliment, however he meant it. She lied and said she spent the money but for nearly a year she’d been collecting every copper, hording it in preparation for tonight. 

As Daenerys was changing, Missandei retrieved a worn leather bag and began to fill it. She put in several changes of clothes, some of Daenerys’s most favored and expensive jewelry and of course the food. Since Missandei was expected to prepare Daenerys’s meals, it gave her access to the kitchen. Shortly after Viserys left she ran down and claimed Daenerys was hungry. She returned with a loaf of bread, wine, water, cheeses and berries all of which were added to the bag after they were individually packed. 

Nervous didn’t even begin to describe how she was feeling. She’d been on her best behavior of late, fearful of waking the dragon but if he caught her this time, there would be no second chances. If he learned what she’d done before she was out of his reach he’d be furious, and the punishment would be more severe than anything he’d done thus far. 

While she worried, Missandei smoothed out a wrinkle in her cloak. Last she unwound the braids in Daenerys’s silver hair and combed them out with her fingers. A fancy hairstyle was typical of nobles and people of means. Where she was going now she couldn’t afford the association. 

“You’ll be fine,” Missandei said as she handed over the gold. 

“I will be,” she promised. Regardless of the outcome the choice and the consequences were hers. Whatever happened she didn’t want Missandei to blame herself. For good or ill, what came next would rest on Daenerys’s shoulders alone. 

“I think I’m ready?” she said unsteadily, making it sound more like a question than a statement. Looking in the mirror and could hardly recognize her reflection. Even someone who knew her would need a second glance to place her, it was perfect. 

“Almost,” Missandei countered. She disappeared from the room, going to the adjoining space where Missandei kept her bed. It was little more than a closet, but it was all Viserys was willing to part with. Daenerys hated the thought of her friend so cramped in such a pitiful space but after two failed attempts to convince Viserys to give her a room of her own, Daenerys knew better than to try for a third. He insisted Missandei was ‘the help’ and she was lucky to get any place under ‘his’ roof. Although she couldn’t disagree with him more Daenerys was hardly in a position to argue. Right then she made a promise to herself, once she found a home, wherever it was, she’d send for Missandei and she’d make sure it was big enough for them each to have a room of their own, a real room. 

She came back holding a small, plain knife. It was a simple looking thing, not adorned with gold or gems, just a sharp blade set in a wooden handle. “Take this.” 

“I can’t, it’s yours,” she objected. Missandei had so few possessions, Daenerys didn’t want to take what little she did have. She would be fine without a weapon surely. 

The handmaiden smiled as if she expected such a response. In her other hand she held an identical knife, exactly like the first. They were clearly a matching pair. “I’ll keep one, but you must take the other,” she insisted. “The world outside is dangerous, you must be prepared.” 

Her heart pounded in her chest. She didn’t think she was prepared at all, but she knew she couldn’t remain where she was. She didn’t want to be married for her brother’s ambitions. She took the weapon and with Missandei’s help attached under her cloak. “Thank you,” she said, meaning it sincerely, for so much more than the knife. 

They hugged, and Daenerys didn’t want to let her go. Missandei was a true friend, not because Daenerys was a Targaryen, or because she was purchased to be one, but because she was kind and good. She hadn’t realized how alone she’d been until Missandei came into her life and now she was leaving her behind. It felt all manner of wrong. 

When they separated Daenerys wasn’t the only one wiping her eyes. “Go,” she urged, angling her chin toward the window. “I’ll handle the guards.” 

Through months of planning there were still parts of the scheme that Daenerys didn’t know. She didn’t know where Missandei got the length of rope that would be required to lower her down from the window, she didn’t know how the handmaiden had acquired a list of ships leaving the harbor that night and she didn’t know exactly what Missandei meant when she said she’d ‘handle’ the guards. 

She was at the window when she looked back. “Stay safe,” she instructed, “I’ll send for you as soon as I can. Thank you Missandei, so much.” 

“Go find a life, you deserve it.” 

She dropped the bag first and tried not to notice how far down it had to fall. Hanging out the third story window Daenerys felt ill equipped for what she was doing. She should have practiced, she should have… she didn’t know what, but whatever she’d done, it wasn’t enough. The rope burned against her soft palms as she worked. Her body weight felt like an anchor pulling too hard, too fast. It would have been so easy to simply let go. Her legs flailed wildly as she tried to find some kind of support. How had this ever seemed like a good idea? 

Less than ten feet down, she heard for the first time one of the Unsullied. Her brother had taken most of them with him but left five behind in his absence. If the man looked up, at the sky, at a bird, at anything, he’d spot her for sure. She didn’t want to think about that. The men were unquestionably loyal and wouldn’t be swayed if she was caught. They’d turn her over to Viserys without hesitation. Illyrio had his own guards but like so many things with the Magister they were purely for show. They remained at the gate and never left, an open display of status to anyone who walked passed the estate but little else. 

While her arms ached, she squirmed on the rope. Should she return to the window, climb down and take her chances or just wait and see if he moved on? Mercifully she didn’t have to decide because a voice called, demanding his attention. It was far away, but Daenerys distinctly heard the word “fire,” just before the guard under her took off running. A fire? She looked up and saw the opening of her window was brighter than when she’d left. Sweat soaked her face and stung her eyes as she continued. She couldn’t just let go of the rope and wipe it away. The whole way down she watched the shadows and the licking flames above. 

On solid ground she wanted nothing more than to rest. Her arms throbbed, her back hurt and her legs felt hollow, but she couldn’t stop. She’d come too far to retreat. Daenerys thought about Missandei. Her plan was to start a fire in the bed chambers? It worked, she didn’t see a single guard on her side of the house, but she was concerned her friend had been harmed in the process. If Missandei was injured so she could escape, she’d never forgive herself. 

The loud voices of the servants and the guards propelled Daenerys into action. This was her opening, her one chance, she had to seize it. She ran, away from Viserys, away from the house, away from her old life. 

R-C

Her walk to the dock was accented by the sound of running men in plate armor, breathing heavily as they sought their prey. They were going in the wrong direction. She knew because they were looking for her, they just didn’t know it. She’d changed her face, burned the clothes she’d been wearing and now was going to take the first available ship toward Braavos. Her job was done. 

She got a few hard, questioning looks as she passed but wisely no one questioned her. It was nearly midnight and anyone out this late was surely dangerous. It gave people pause before they picked a fight they weren’t sure they could win. 

The first three ships were bound for Westeros, but she wasn’t the least bit tempted to join them on the journey to her former homeland. The fourth was a fishing vessel about to begin a day’s work. She could have easily commandeered the vessel for her needs but had little desire to smell fish entrails the entire length of her voyage. She kept hunting. Surely someone was heading to the Titan City. 

She found a likely candidate and approached slowly. There was someone else ahead of her in line. It was a woman, so small she could have been mistaken for a girl at a distance. She had her head down and her hood up. The assassin watched as a group of sailors blocked her path. Two minutes later the captain made his way from below deck and down gangway, looking none too impressed. “What’s this now?” he demanded in a rough voice. She’d found the right ship, he was definitely from Braavos. 

“I seek passage on your ship,” the woman said in a voice that somehow managed to be both meek and powerful. 

“Where ye going?”

She answered by retrieving a pouch of coins from somewhere. She passed it over. “I can pay, and I don’t care where you go, as long as you take me away from here.” 

“Ye a criminal then?” 

The woman stood a little taller, squared her shoulders and met the captain’s eye for the first time. The assassin bit back a smirk, the woman was offended at the assumption. “Absolutely not,” she insisted, “I just no longer wish to be here.” 

A quick scan of the area revealed no additional guards, no servants, just the woman. Who was she? Why would she risk arranging transportation in person, alone? She was clearly a person of means, it was evident in her speech. What was she doing down on the waterfront, pretending to be something she wasn’t? No One would know, she’d been countless people over the years. She could always spot another imposter at twenty paces. It was no small risk to show up at the dock with only gold and hope, expecting things to go right. 

The captain’s eyes widened at the heft of the purse and the men flanking him took an outsized interest as well. “This is a lot of gold woman,” he told her dumbly, as if she didn’t know how much she carried. 

“Take me from here and it’s yours,” she proposed. “I will be no trouble, and I could help in the galley if you wished.” 

If the onlooker needed further proof this woman was out of her element she just provided it. Did she not realize if she offered these men her services, there would only be one thing they wanted from her, over and over again?

The sailors around the captain were practically drooling at the prospect. She wondered idly how long they’d been away from their wives, their mistresses and the many whores of Braavos? 

“No,” the captain answered with a finality to his tone. “You’se trouble, I can tell. If I let you on m’ship I’d regret it.” 

“No?” she repeated back, clearly not expecting his refusal. For once the assassin agreed. She hadn’t thought he’d deny her either. 

“No, I said! Now go!”

The woman looked like she was going to slink away, before she remembered something. “Very well then,” she said, presenting her hand, palm up, “return my coin and I’ll happily share it with another ship’s captain.” 

Clever, the killer thought, appealing to his greed, but it wouldn’t work here. 

“No!” 

“The coins are mine,” she shouted when she realized what he intended, “either give me safe passage to wherever you’re going or return them at once.” 

“I’ll keep them,” he told her. “Go back to your daddy or your nobleman before I get angry.” 

The killer in their midst had gone unnoticed. She took a step closer. This was getting interesting. She’d spent years learning to spot any sign of potential violence. It’s why she recognized the way the small woman glanced toward her belt, where surely a weapon rested. Her head turned slightly, and she sized up the captain as a potential opponent. He was older, he was definitely more experienced and whatever she had under that cloak, she suspected the captain’s sword was bigger. To make matters worse the woman was alone and the Braavosi was not. This was not a fight she could win, even a pretender could see that, couldn’t she? Whatever, or whomever she was running from, she was willing to contend with the captain and his men instead of returning. Her hand was shaking as it inched toward the hem of her cloak. Blood was on the horizon and the Many Faced God was about to receive another soul. Merely amused before the assassin now admired the courage she was witnessing. She stepped forward. 

From the pocket of her pants she took out a single iron coin, flipping it in the air she caught it without breaking stride. She marched straight up to the small woman before she could do anything rash and smiled as kindly as she could manage. “Don’t mind me, I simply need a word with the captain before you try to cut his miserable throat.” She deliberately put herself between the stranger and the impatient thief. “I need passage to Braavos.”

The captain laughed, and his men joined in. “You too, what is it? Do I have a sign on me ship that says, ‘Free Ride?’”

She let him laugh and then told him how things were going to be. “You’re taking me to Braavos.”

“You’se as stupid as this cunt,” the captain countered. “I’ve had me fill. At least she offered me coin.” 

The woman behind her was vibrating with nervous energy but the killer didn’t flinch in the face of anger. She done battle with men far scarier than this lot. “Mind your tongue while you still have it,” she suggested. 

The woman gasped at her harsh words but didn’t otherwise involve herself. That was good. The boys had had their fun, they’d scared the lady and now things were serious. She flipped the iron coin at the man and trusted him to catch it. He did, but only after it hit him squarely in the chest. “Who do you think you ar…” he was asking when he bothered to look at the token. Realization dawned on him and his anger was replaced by fear. She could smell it.

“Valar Morghulis, yes?”

He bowed his head, in a show of submission and respect. “Valar Dohaeris.”

He stepped aside and waved her aboard. “Come, we will leave when you are ready.”

Behind her she could sense the small woman’s fury at the turn of events and was certain an outburst was coming. She hurried to try and prevent it. “Give me the lady’s gold,” she demanded of the deferential captain. 

He looked less than pleased with her request but knew better than to oppose her. He threw it and unlike him, she caught it with a blur of her hand. She turned her back on the ship and the men and looked at the woman’s face for the first time. She was beautiful. She had pale skin and clear violet eyes. The strands of hair she could see around the hood looked almost white. She wasn’t any taller than she appeared at first but up close the assassin could see she was definitely a woman. Slight, she was still gifted with curves. Originally, she intended to return the woman her coin and send her away but on second thought she feared what would become of her if she did. Could she survive without someone looking out for her? At the mercy of dozens of sailors, on the open sea, it was asking for trouble. A voice in the back of her mind reminded her that trouble existed everywhere, and this was not hers, yet it still seemed like the right thing to do. 

She looked over her shoulder at the captain. “Get the ship ready, I want to be on the water by the time the sun rises.”

They went to do her bidding and she held out a hand, returning the gold back to its original owner. “T…thank you,” she said, her hands shaking as much as her voice. 

She needed no acknowledgment or appreciation. She moved past it quickly and looked at the boat. “Sailing with these men will not be pleasant,” she warned. “Are you certain you want to do this?” 

“I need to leave,” she declared simply. Looking toward the sky she seemed to be gauging the time. “They will be looking for me soon, if they aren’t already.” 

Something we have in common, the killer thought privately. “Any doubts? Is your life here so bad that you’re willing to take your chances on the sea?”

It would have been natural for the woman to consider what she was hearing, to weigh the options before her one final time, but she didn’t. “I have no doubts.” 

“Let’s get on with it then,” she said ending the conversation and boarding the boat. 

“Wait!” the stranger called as she followed. “He said no, he won’t allow me to come with you.”

“Yes, he will,” she corrected. She didn’t intend to give him much of a choice. 

“Why are you doing this for me?”

She ignored the question and sought out the captain, finding him on the deck, yelling orders as to where to store their cargo. “We’ll be ready,” he promised. 

“She’s coming,” the assassin informed him, meaning the stunned woman who was still catching up. 

“The gold?” the captain wondered. 

“Is hers,” she finished for him.

“With respect,” he said ducking his head, “I don’t have room for yas both.” 

“She can sleep with me Cap,” one of the men yelled causing his rowdy friends to cheer. 

“Me too,” another kindly offered. 

“We’ll make room for her Cap, don’t worry!”

Without permission her eyes flickered to the woman they were discussing and saw she looked furious. She wanted to step forward and defend her honor, it was clear on her face. Although she had no doubt it would be entertaining to see, they didn’t have time. “She’ll remain with me.”

The captain showed his first flicker of resistance since seeing her iron coin. “She’ll eat our food, use our supplies. You have the coin, I’ll provide you passage to the temple, but her…” 

The stranger spoke before the killer could. “I’ll go then, I don’t wish to cause…”

“Stay!” she demanded. Her eyes swept the deck for the weakest lamb to slaughter. If he was worried about the space, about the rations, or about the divisions of labor she could easily free up a few spaces in his crew. To the captain she said, “Make room for us both or I’ll do it.” It was a threat, and one they both knew she was capable of carrying out. 

“Two new’ones comin’ aboard!” he yelled to the others. 

It took a moment but soon everyone was back to work, readying the ship. They were an efficient bunch and without interruptions they were ready to go in only minutes. 

The woman stood at the railing as the city got smaller and smaller. “I made it,” she said with wonder in her voice. “I can’t believe it.” 

All around them she could see the lingering looks, hear the whispers of desire. She rolled her grey eyes. This was going to be a problem. “Come with me,” she commanded as she went to where the captain was steering the ship. 

He saw them coming and visibly tensed. “Is’a problem with your quarter?”

“Haven’t looked,” she admitted, “but I’m sure it’s fine.” 

“Someth’n else then?” he guessed. 

She held out a hand and when the stranger took it she pulled her forward into view. “This woman is under my protection!” she shouted. Her voice rose over the whistling wind and the lapping waves. She wanted this to be heard. “If any man touches her against her will, I’ll see you fed to the fish before we reach the Titan, I swear it.” Her dark promise made her angry eyes settled back on the captain. He was paler now than when they first met. “Do I make myself clear?” 

He swallowed hard as he tried to get his mouth to work. After an extended delay he settled for a feeble nod. It was enough. “Let’s go,” she said to her travelling companion. 

Below deck, terrified sailors were all too happy to point her toward her temporary quarters. The room she’d been gifted with was a former store room with barrels still pressed against one wall. Items were left behind, as though it had been cleared out in a hurry. She was sure it had. The bed, if she could call it that, looked to be little more than a blanket stuffed with hay and folded over. There were no pillows, and barely enough room for the two women to turn around without bumping into one another. There was one door, no windows and the only light came from a pair of small candles. It was bad, but it wasn’t the worst place she’d ever slept. She kicked off her boots and checked the door was locked before unstrapping her sword. 

The woman tried to stay out of her way, but it was impossible in the confined area. “I…I’m sorry,” she said as the killer moved away from the secure door. “Oops, I’ll just…” She stopped and took a deliberate step back, pressing into the door to provide the bigger of them more room to maneuver. “Thank you,” she said, “for everything. I’m not sure what would have happened if you hadn’t intervened.”

With her back to the woman she smirked. She didn’t know what would have happened? That’s funny because the assassin knew exactly what would have happened. The captain would have stolen her gold and if she pressed the issue he would have slit her throat and dumped her five miles off the coast. 

The heat had her shirt clinging to her skin, but she peeled it away without thought and flopped down on what would be her bed. Her eyes had barely closed when she heard a throat clearing from that spot against the door. “We didn’t get to properly introduce ourselves before, I’m Dany.” 

She couldn’t say why she did it. She’d met a lot of people over a lot of years and never once had she given her true name to anyone. Arya Stark died in King’s Landing. The girl who escaped was different. The one who remained in Braavos after her training was complete, was different. Since then she’d been a merchant, a noblewoman, a pirate, a cobbler, a grifter, a tavern girl, a cutpurse, a whore and a killer, just to name a few. She was truly No One. She could become anyone or anything she needed to be, the only thing she’d never been again was Arya Stark. “I’m Arya.” 

She cracked open one eye just in time to see Dany pull her empty hand back from a failed attempt to shake. “Nice to meet you Arya,” she said, “thank you for helping me. I have gold…”

A groan passed her closed lips. She didn’t want the woman’s gold, she just wanted to get some sleep. “Keep your gold, you’re going to need it, and you might as well make yourself comfortable, it’s a long way to Braavos.” 

She not only heard but felt when Dany took a step closer. “Surely you’ll accept some form of payment. There must be something I can do…”

“An attitude like that nearly got you raped by every disgusting sailor on this ship,” Arya pointed out. “You need to be more careful, this isn’t Pentos and these men aren’t as civilized and cultured as those you’re used to. They’ll take advantage if you let them, and some will try even if you don’t.” 

“More I have to repay you for, it seems,” Dany noted quietly. 

“Want to repay me?”

“Yes,” she answered immediately. 

“Be quiet then, it’s been a long night.” The huff of annoyance she heard made her smile as sleep came to get her. 

R-C

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note: That’s it. Like I said, no idea if I’ll continue. Thanks for reading.


End file.
